Past and Present
by Some1tookmyname
Summary: Brennan won't lie to her child, but can she accept allowing her past into her present?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is a birthday fic for the lovely and talented JMHaughey. My prompt was that it had to be about a tradition Brennan's family celebrated that she didn't know wasn't a real holiday and it had to have Booth, Brennan and Hadley (my chosen name for the baby.) Thanks to RositaLG, jadedrepartee and Baileyjane for the read throughs, idea bouncing and beta work.

Jaime, I hope I did right by you. Happy Birthday, Friend. You are one of the best things to come out of this fandom for me. #Fact

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><p><em>She is young when she first asks about it. Young enough to make something for her mother at school. Young enough that her teacher praises her for coloring inside the lines and cautions her to use her very best handwriting. Young enough to wrap it in tissue paper bound with green pipe cleaners.<em>

_Christine Brennan unwraps the gift as carefully as young Temperance has ever seen her handle anything. She is anxious to see her mother's reaction. She has worked quite hard on the gift and hopes her mother will love it._

"_Temperance, it's perfect. Something I always wanted."_

"_You always wanted a construction paper flower pot with a ribbon stem and her handprint as the flower?" Russ is doubtful and far too old to believe that anything made by a child could be a perfect gift._

"_Yes." Her mother smiles at her daughter. "I love anything I can keep forever that will remind me of how small you once were."_

"_I'm not small," counters the stubborn little girl._

"_Well, you are smaller now than you will be tomorrow or next week or next month or next year, so that counts."_

"_Happy Mother's Day!" Her father sing songs as he comes into the room with a breakfast tray. Wearing a scarf from Russ and carefully tucking the craft from her daughter between two picture frames on her nightstand, her mother enjoys breakfast in bed with her family before the fanciest present of the day is opened._

"_You spoil me," she tells her husband as she unwraps a new watch he's bought for her._

"_Only because Father's Day is next month and I have to give you something to live up to." He teases her, but even the children know he bought it because he adores her._

"_When is Daughter's Day?" It occurs to Temperance suddenly that she doesn't remember ever celebrating such a thing._

"_There is no Daughter's Day. There's also no Son's Day." Russ is so much wiser than she is sometimes, and often feels the need to prove it._

"_That's not fair!" Temperance isn't always as street wise as Russ, but she is always smart. "You are only a mother because of me and Russ. So if we give you presents and have a Mother's Day and Dad gets presents on Father's Day, then there must be a Daughter's Day and a Son's Day."_

_Her parents are temporarily baffled and uncertain, and once again bowled over by their daughter's intelligence, but her mother is quick to recover. "Well, just because we have never heard of it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. I will do some research and see what I find."_

_At that young age, she is already cognizant of research and its importance. However, she is not quite old enough to realize that she should ask to see the evidence her mother claims to find just a few days later._

"_I went to the library today," her mother tells her. "And you were right. Daughter's Day is exactly one half year after Mother's Day."_

"_It is?" She is so bright, but she is also still young and believes that her parents always have the correct answers._

"_Yes. And Son's Day is exactly six months after Father's Day. So on the second Sunday in November, you get a special day and on the third Sunday in December, Russ gets a special day."_

_She notices the skeptical look on Russ' face but she does not care because Daughter's Day sounds like fun AND she gets to go before Russ does and that in and of itself means that she's won. Those victories seem few and far between sometimes, so she celebrates them when she gets them._

_Carefully she climbs the step stool in the kitchen and takes the calendar that hangs next to the phone down off the wall. She procures a pen from the mug on the counter and counts the Sundays in November. On the second one she writes in her best writing "My Day."_

_In a flash of niceness she flips to December and on the square for the third Sunday she writes "Russ' Day."_

_Studying her handiwork, she is pleased with what she has written and happy she chose pen, because now it cannot be erased and no one can forget._

_And no one does. Though the wait to November is initially quite long, the day itself proves to live up to the hype she's built in her mind. Breakfast in bed, a small present, ice skating, hot cocoa and her favorite dinner. It's perfection. And a short five weeks later, Russ' day is no less fun._

_It becomes a tradition, something her mother writes on the new calendar she gets every Christmas._

_Until one Christmas her mother isn't there to open her calendar and there is no more Daughter's Day for Temperance Brennan._


	2. Chapter 2

It was one of those things she had pushed out of her mind for quite a while.

She was good at that. Booth called it "compartmentalizing" but Sweets sometimes called it "denial."

She didn't have a name for it, but as far as her past went, pushing things out of her mind worked quite well for her.

The problem with this particular skill was that sometimes, more often than not in fact, when she did remember (or when she chose to remember, depending on who you asked) the memory was often a cold slap of reality.

That was the case as she sat and blinked at her computer screen, the evidence she sought turning up a totally different answer that what she had expected.

Becoming a mother had been one of greatest joys in Brennan's life. While she had known she would embrace it and imagined she would be good at it, it had taken her by surprise how much she simply loved it. She loved her daughter, loved parenting and teaching and guiding. She had thought being a mother would fit nicely into her book of accomplishments. She was rather amazed that it seemed, out of all her accomplishments, to be the only one that really mattered. She had assumed it would take it's place among her other acheivements, but she was surprised when it surpassed anything else she'd done. And it overwhelmed her sometimes just how important her daughter was to her.

All this amazement had caused her to recall Daughter's Day and how special that had been to her as a child. She'd done a good job of never thinking about it, never acknowledging it, but now it seemed like something she'd like to revisit. She'd flipped open her planner to discover with surprise that it wasn't a pre-marked holiday like Mother's Day and Father's Day were. To the best of her recollection, it was the second Sunday in November, but it wasn't in her planner or on her desk calendar.

Puzzled, she turned to the internet, and after an hour of searching there was only one conclusion she could come to:

Her parents had lied.

Numbly, she picked up the phone to speak to the only other person she knew might be as indignant about this as she was.

"Hello?"

"Russ?"

"Tempe!"

"Did you know that Daughter's Day wasn't real? And by extension, neither was Son's Day?"

"It's good to hear your voice, too, Tempe. The girls are doing well, thanks for asking."

"Sorry."

Russ chuckled, because he knew his sister well enough to know that her mind was completely preoccupied and her lack of common courtesy wasn't rudeness, just distraction. "And yes, Tempe. I knew that."

"All along?"

"Yeah."

"Even when we were kids?"

"Well, sure. I mean, no one else celebrated it and it just seemed convenient that Mom didn't discover it until after you asked about it. I remember one year I wanted to go to the bowling alley with my friend Pete because someone said Carla Bonetti was going to be there. I thought she was so hot." He laughed. "But Mom wouldn't let me go because it was Son's Day and we had to celebrate it. I remember telling her that Son's Day should be about what I wanted and I wanted to go bowling with Pete and admire Carla Bonetti's, uh, bowling skills." When there was nothing but silence on the other end, not even a comment on Carla Bonetti's bowling acumen, he knew she was upset. "You didn't know?" He asked gently.

"No. I thought…I mean, after Mom and Dad left, I wasn't anyone's daughter anymore, you know? I kind of just…forgot about it."

"Until now?"

"Yes. I was thinking about it because Hadley is old enough now to understand the significance of celebrations and traditions and I was excited to share that one with her next week, only now I've discovered it isn't real and…"

"And you don't want to lie to her like Mom and Dad lied to us."

"Yes."

"Listen, I'm not going to tell you what to do here, Tempe. I was there for one of the rounds of you versus Booth over Santa Claus."

"What does that mean?"

"It just means I know how you feel about fudging the truth over for kids, but do me a favor, will you?"

"What?"

"Remember how Daughter's Day made you feel when you were a kid. How much you loved it. And you did, Tempe. You _loved _it. Every year you said it was your favorite day. And try to imagine how Hadley would feel about a day just for her."

"But it's not a real thing!"

"It was to you. And to Mom and Dad, too. And it is to my girls."

"You…you have Daughter's Day with Emma and Hayley?"

"Yeah, well, you know, Son's Day was in December, so…"

"Oh, my God." It dawned on Brennan then. "You never got your last Son's Day with Mom and Dad."

"No. I didn't. They disappeared the week before and I was pissed, you know? Pissed that they didn't come back for my day or for Christmas. Pissed that they left in general. But having Daughter's Day with the girls…I dunno. It kind of helps ease the sting a little. And they love it. You should try it, Tempe."

"I…"

"Promise me you'll think about it."

"I will. I'll think about it."

"Good. Now, I gotta run."

"Sure. I'll talk to you soon."

"Tell Booth I said 'hey' and kiss Hadley for me."

"The same to Amy and the girls."

"Bye."

He disconnected before she could respond and once again she was left with a whirlwind of feelings and emotions that were even stronger than they were before she'd spoken to her brother.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a testament to their relationship that Booth could see that Brennan was troubled when she walked through the front door of their home. It took him mere seconds to realize that all was not well with his partner and he immediately put down the knife he was chopping onions with and gave her his full attention.

"Hey, Bones. Rough day?" He wiped his hands on a dishtowel as she took a seat on a barstool across the counter from him.

"Where's Hadley?"

"Upstairs playing Mad Scientist."

Her lips quirked. "It's just scientist, Booth, not Mad Scientist. She's not pretending to be insane."

"I'm not so sure about that. Her stuffed Panda is her assistant and we all know Susie Swims So Much would have been a better choice."

She tilted her head to the side. "You are trying to make me laugh."

"Am I close?" He grinned.

She smiled "Perhaps." Then she sighed, the grin fading. "I just…when I was a child, my family celebrated Daughter's Day and Son's Day."

"What are Daughter's Day and Son's Day?"

"It was a day when we celebrated me or Russ. But they aren't real. They don't exist. My parents made them up."

"I don't…I don't understand."

"I didn't know they weren't real holidays. Daughter's Day was so much fun. We'd spend the whole day all together. It started with breakfast in bed and a little gift. Then we'd go ice skating, get hot cocoa with lots of whipped cream, go to the movies, have my favorite dinner…it was just fun to spend time with my family like that. But now I've discovered it's not an actual holiday and…"

"You feel deceived."

"Yes."

"I get it."

"You do?"

"Sure. It's like someone waited until you were in your thirties to tell you about Santa."

"When they left….I didn't want to think about it anymore. It wasn't helpful to me to remember things like those family days. And I was never in a foster home long enough to even pretend to be someone else's daughter, so it was easy to forget about it. But now…" she trailed off.

"Now you have a daughter."

"I loved Daughter's Day. It was my favorite day of the year." She sounded wistful. "But I don't lie to Hadley. You are the one who talks about Santa and magic and fairies. I'm… I'm not that parent."

"You know, Bones, I think you are losing the tradition in the lie."

"What you mean?"

"Well, look, I mean, your parents, you know, they lied. A lot. And so when you discover something else they lied about it seems…" He searched for the right words.

"Abhorrent?"

"I was going to say it seems more hurtful than it would be if they didn't have such a history of lying. But in this case…Bones, this was a nice, family tradition. They didn't lie to hurt you, they…they made up a story to have some fun. That's not a bad thing."

"They let me think it was a national holiday!"

"I get that, but just because they did it that way doesn't mean we have to."

She considered this for a moment. "How would you suggest we do it?"

"On Daughter's Day, we wake her up and tell her it's Daughter's Day. We tell her it's a tradition in Mommy's family and that it's something special that we are going to do, too. And then we will spend the day doing all the things she loves the most." He smiled. " I think it could be fun."

"Like the planetarium." She mused out loud. "Russ does it with his girls."

"I bet he does. And I bet they love it."

"He says they do."

"It's up to you, Bones, but I think it could be really great."

"I…"

"Don't let how your parents handled it keep you from allowing us to have a really fun tradition, too."

"You think it's a good idea, too."

"I think she's a great kid and what's not to celebrate about that?"

"I have to think about it."

Booth picked up his knife and began chopping again. "When is this alleged Daughter's Day?"

"According to my parents it would be this coming Sunday."

"And Son's Day?"

"Six months after Father's Day; the third Sunday in December."

"You know," said Booth as he scraped the onions into a bowl, "Son's Day could be really great for us with Parker. I don't always get him on his birthday. It would be nice to have a day to celebrate him all together."

"You are trying to convince me to say yes."

"Nope. Just giving you all the facts. I know how you like that."

"I really do." She smiled her first real smile since she'd been home. "But I'm still thinking about it."

"It's your thing, Bones, from your family. It's your decision."

She nodded and then changed the subject to other, less emotional topics.

And she didn't bring it up again.

When they went to bed Saturday night, Booth still wasn't sure what was happening on Sunday.

And neither was Brennan.

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><p>Sunday morning Brennan woke just a bit after six and realized that, despite the early hour, the other side of the bed was already empty.<p>

She lay still for a moment and then heard the distinct sound of kitchen cabinet doors being shut and the clanging of pots and pans. Curious, she got out of bed and put on her robe and slippers, and headed downstairs.

" Morning, Bones!"

"What are you doing?"

"Making Hadley's favorite breakfast."

"Booth…"

"Look, it's just breakfast. If you want to make it more, we will. Otherwise, I was just in the mood for some pancakes, okay?"

She started to answer but was distracted by a tiny, footie- pajama clad girl in the kitchen doorway. Piggy tails askew and messy with a much loved bear hanging from her hand, she was still blinking the sleep away as she said. "Hi, Mommy. Daddy, are you making pancakes?"

"Yep." Booth flipped a pancake up high and spun around in a circle before catching it on the spatula again, making the four year old giggle.

Brennan's heart surged and clenched all at once.

And suddenly, she had her answer.

"Hadley?" she said, crouching down to her daughter's level and motioning for her to come into her arms. "Have I ever told you about Daughter's Day?"

Booth grinned and flipped another pancake, knowing a tradition had just been reborn.


End file.
